The Queen of Highway

Driving home from work that cool evening, I accidentally picked this queen of seduction who came to kill, steal, and murder.
Sex oozed from the crown of her wig to the heel of the stiletto.
She was dressed to murder.
Large blue eyes rolling sexily about the socket.
She was about 30-35 but losing her youthful look now perfectly concealed in powerful sensual bodily makeup. She came with an overpowering and irresistible reddish aura.
The dripping red pouting lips could turn a pastor into a rapist, and make the Pope commit adultery.

The boobs were scantily tucked into a transparent white top with a very low neckline, begging to be set free.
I imagined what my hands could do with those.
The micro-short skirt jumped and revealed a chunky portion of pinky thighs.
I knew I was in trouble.
The gut to kick her out of my car evaded me.
Part of me wanted the feeling, the other side screamed Nooooo!!!
In between the mix, I developed an erection.
The queen of the highway was about to deflower my matrimonial sanctity.
How did I get there?
Who planted me in this shit?
How did she get into my car!?
I was driving home from work.
Ikoyi to Berger is a long stretch, and daily navigation could be very boring.
Music? Yeah, but I recently lost the flavor.

So, I yearned to just pick someone going my way so we could gist all the way.
Preferably a female, but not the queen of the highway.
Things switched on a few minutes later.
The cloud got darker; it was about to rain.
That intensified my desire to help someone off the Lagos evening traffic.

On getting off the 3rd Mainland Bridge at Iyana Oworo bus stop, the crowd was milling; confusion and despair were boldly plastered on their faces. Of course, it was about to rain and the day wasn’t getting younger. I slowed the car a bit, scanning for familiar faces at the bus stop.
None rang a bell.

I was about to move when I heard a shout and someone waving behind me. I stopped, waiting for that familiar face to pop. This chic ran out of the crowd, opened the door, and jumped in. Before I could scan the face, she hastily motioned to me to move, pointing at the LASTMA officials coming my way presumably to accost me for parking on the road.
I moved.

After escaping the scene, I scanned my guest and…
The powerful fragrance that permeated my car…
Her presence, her aura, her glory.

She watched me sultry as I scanned her from head to toe.
When our eyes locked, she sensually licked her lips already dripping with reddish coloration.
I removed my eyes and focused on driving.

She noticed my discomfort and readjusted her already short skirt which was now barely covering her underpants.
I mentally ran my hand on her thighs and landed it at the Gee.
She laughed coarsely, flipped back her long hair, and readjusted her seating position- almost facing me.
Our eyes locked again, and she winked, parted her lips slowly, and ran a finger through my neck; a finger both capable of caressing a child and as well pulling a trigger. A shock wave was transported through my bloodstream into every part of my body.

I spasmed.
The erection grew.
I mentally searched for scripture to neutralize my feelings, but none was there.
The queen of the highway had frozen my brain.

The rain was falling.
Street waters hastily becoming small rivers.
The air conditioning pouring its chilly ambiance on me.
Johnny Drille’s sensual voice screamed fire from the surround speakers.
There I was, stuck in my own car.
With a queen who had come to kill, steal, and murder.


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